


The Limits of Two-Part Harmony

by Rockinlibrarian



Category: Legion (TV)
Genre: Everly Brothers, Gen, Memory Loss, Music, Season/Series 01, minor innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 16:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17005113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rockinlibrarian/pseuds/Rockinlibrarian
Summary: A slight detour in canon has David decide to hang out longer in Oliver's astral ice cube instead of rushing home. The two men try to amuse themselves with singing, but David begins to realize something is missing here...





	The Limits of Two-Part Harmony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [versaphile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/versaphile/gifts).



> For Versaphile's request: "David decides to stick around the ice cube for a bit so he can avoid the monster in S1. Oliver's been alone in that ice cube for a long time ... Would also accept PG Oliver-David S1 friendship bonding." Yeah, I tend toward the PG. :D

In this astral ice cube, David’s brain was suddenly, blissfully quiet. For the first time in his life, he could focus. No more unasked for worries of random strangers passing by, no more arguments with voices that were somehow louder than his own, and best of all, no more yellow-eyed devil.

Outside his brain, though, the Ice Cube was not quiet at all.

“No, no, you’re singing melody again, _you’re_ supposed to be Phil on upper harmony, I’ve got Don covered already.” Oliver Bird massaged his temples, then held one finger out as if about to push a button. “Two full steps above. ‘Bye, bye, love’—see I’m no good on the high notes, that’s why _you’re_ supposed to do it, what even is the _point_ of having a tenor in ones astral plane if he can’t take a descant.”

“I’m…sorry?” David did feel sorry for the guy. He’d obviously gotten lonely after decades in…his mind, was it? What WAS an astral plane, anyway? But David couldn’t successfully feign interest in beat poetry or experimental jazz. Harmonizing did seem like a way to pass the time here that at least gave him a little more agency than listening to an infinite recitation of Oliver’s favorite things. Only Oliver decided that they should be the Everly Brothers now—not _sing_ the Everly Brothers, _be_ the Everly Brothers. He had very high standards. “Maybe we should try a different duet? Like, I don’t know… Simon and Garfunkel?” It was the only other male singing duo he could think of that Oliver might know. 

“David." Oliver shook his head pityingly. "If you can’t handle Phil Everly, don’t even attempt Artie Garfunkel.”

There was a pause. “Oh-kay—”

“But we _will_ make this work, I have _faith_ in you. Again now,” and he sang, “this is my note, this is your note. One two three four, ‘Bye, bye, love. Bye, bye, happiness…’.” 

David couldn’t help smiling a little as he joined in (this time sticking the descant). It was that “I have faith in you” that did it. Just hours before—or, days? Decades? What was time?—Melanie Bird had expressed faith in him, that he could learn to focus the voices in his head, wield his power with intention, change the world. And here was her long-wayward husband, the one whose vision she claimed to be administrating at Summerland, expressing his own deep faith that David could learn to harmonize properly. What would Melanie think if she could see them here now?

Oliver launched solo into the last verse, leaving David to listen and think. “ _I’m through with romance, I’m through with love_ —” Oliver didn’t seem to miss Melanie, David thought. Would _he_ eventually forget about Syd the same way? “— _I’m through with countin’ the stars above_ —” that line made him shudder involuntarily, although he couldn’t quite remember why. But I’m _safe_ here. _Syd_ is safer because I’m here. “— _because my baby is through with me_.” But she wasn’t through with him at all, neither Melanie with Oliver nor, miraculously, Syd with David. Syd never gave up on him, no matter what stood in their way. 

“What _now_?” Oliver spat.

David had completely forgotten to come back in on the final refrain. But he wasn’t thinking about that now. “Do you ever... _miss_ Summerland?”

“Summerland? Summerland.” Oliver seemed to taste the word as he said it. “Ah, _Summerland_. Where humanity waits to be reborn. The astral plane IS Summerland, David, just as Leadbetter described it.” He gave David a patronizing glance. “How could I possibly miss what is all around me?”

David blinked. “Um, no, I meant… the retreat you made for— for people like me— on Earth, with Melanie and Cary and…that creepy shapeshifting guy apparently?”

“Melanie my wife?” Oliver frowned and squinted into a corner of the ceiling, as if listening for something. “Not Chinese, you said? Redhead, then?”

“No. Blonde, I think?” David struggled to describe the older woman—she was more a feeling than an image. “She’s…serious. Passionate. She really believes in us, in what we have the power to accomplish. And…she misses you.”

“Really….” Oliver continued to purse his lips and gaze through the wall.

“I always wondered,” David continued, partly because he was genuinely curious, and partly to see if it helped jog Oliver’s memory, “is she…does she have…is she a, a mutant like us? Or is she just a leader? As if she was _just_ anything.”

“I honestly have no idea,” Oliver said quietly, for the first time appearing to accept that he was completely flummoxed.

“Do you remember… _anything_?” It was starting to worry David. Sure, he’d had a lot of pain in the real world, but there had been good, too. Particularly recently. He wasn’t sure the security of this new place was worth losing those memories. “What about Cary? He’s the… scientist, I guess, he runs a lot of tests, invents things? Geeky blonde guy?”

“Ah, yes, Cary. I think. … Why do I remember him as a beautiful young woman?”

“Uh, no, that’s Kerry—”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“It’s…complicated.” Oliver peered at David, expecting him to continue, so he added, “They…share a body? Or something?”

Oliver’s face brightened. “Yes, of course! They were never interested in swinging, though, which seems a bit of a waste. And Walter— he was the shapeshifter— he could make himself _look_ like a beautiful young woman, which I must say was always intriguing… my god, how beautiful a young woman must this Melanie have _been_ then, if I married her?”

This was a relief. Some memories seemed to be coming back. “Would you like to go see her again?”

The hopeful look dropped off Oliver’s face. “Nope,” he said quickly, “not at all, I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.”

“Well, why? You said _I_ could go back if I really wanted to. Is there a point of no return I might hit at some point, and you’re already there? Why did you say I could if you can’t? What are the _rules_ here, exactly?”

“David! _Here_ we are GODS. We _make_ the rules.”

“Then why don’t you _WANT_  to go back?”

“Because, again, here we are _GODS_. What part of this is so hard for you to comprehend?”

“The part where you’re miserable!” It only seemed clear to David once he’d said it, too. “You sit here perpetually freezing, making up pathetic poetry, dwelling on a past you will never touch again, for what? The ability to make dated furniture appear out of thin air?”

“There are forces, out there,” Oliver interrupted quietly, “powerful, terrible forces, just waiting to... _seriously_ harsh on our vibe—”

“So what?” said David. “If we’re as powerful as you say we are, we’ll just come _back_ here, somehow, if we need to. Or maybe we’ll _fight_. Wouldn’t that be something? To _do_ something about that monster out there once and for all? We can use this power. For good! And we’ll have people to _share_ it with, that’s the most important part. You’ll have _real_ singers to harmonize with, you could start your own _choir_ at Summerland. And you’ll get to be with _Melanie_ again. I’ll get to be with Syd. Screw it, stay here if you want, I’m going home.” 

David stood and took a resolute step toward the door…if only he could figure out where the door had gone. As he stared at the walls, trying to find the point where he must have come in, he heard Oliver speak softly behind him.

“DOES Summerland, your Earth-bound Summerland, have any sort of musical ensemble?”

David turned back. Oliver was peering into his drink as if he didn’t particularly care what the answer was, but his frown seemed softer. “It will if you come back and start one.”

Oliver slammed down his glass. “Right then. Let’s go see if this Summerland of yours has any _decent_ tenors.”


End file.
